The Ethics Of Piracy
by Felinae Silvestris
Summary: Tumblebrutus and George argue about whether mutiny is a reasonable course of action to get rid of a captain that's past his sell-by date. Entry for Rowena DeVandal's August One Thousand Words Or Less challenge.


A/n: This is my entry for Rowena DeVandal's One Thousand Words Or Less challenge for August on the Fireplace. It's a prequel of sorts, to He Too Had Stol'n Away - just because I can't resist pirate kitties. Just to be clear, George is not an OC - he's just not in the show anymore, but he had a brown patch on one eye and a black patch on the other and was always one of the pirates in Growltiger's Last Stand. Concrit encouraged.

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**The Ethics of Piracy**

"I can't believe you thought _that _was a good idea!"

"It don't matter about that old queen's collar, she'll get over it. Besides, Cap'n Morgan won't be around much longer, so he can stick around here and find her a new one." Tumblebrutus replied, a low undertone that wouldn't be over heard over the rabble in the dockside bar. The place was crowded, and that made it much easier to talk, if you could stand the stink of old fish, rum and stale urine long enough to hold a conversation.

"What do ya mean by that?" the young tom's companion George, replied curiously.

"What it means is, I don't like the way he does things, and I wanna stop 'im."

"You're not seriously talking mutiny, are ya?"

"Why not?" Tumblebrutus gave a smirk, scratching at the table with a claw. The brown and white patched tom had just been promoted to bosun and was now setting his sights a little higher. At least, that was the impression he gave.

"An' what if Grum don't like it. The others. 'Ow do you know you'll get away with it?" George challenged, downing another glass of dark rum.

"Because, I already talked to Grumbuskin. He agrees with me. Morgan is too old to be working so hard, s'about time he went back to shore and learned to stay there. He's becoming a liability."

George shrugged, pulling out his pistol and checking it over, just to have something to do with his paws. "You ain't gonna kill 'im then?"

"Not unless I have to. Just convince him to retire." The bosun replied easily, leaning back on his chair. He was waiting to see how his companion would react to this, there was a reason George was the last to be told. He was the one that would be least likely to keep his mouth shut if left too long.

"And you plan to replace him, do ya?" George asked, pointing the unloaded pistol at his companion. "Yer a bit young to be Cap'n, laddie."

"I'm a bit young to be a bosun, but there y'are. Nah, I got someone else in mind for Captain."

"So, what's in it for you then, Tumble? Not like you to do a good deed for nothin', so you gotta be getting something for your troubles."

"I am. Job security, a nice little pay-rise on the side and a new blanket for my bunk. With promises of promotion if Old Grumbuskin decides to pack it in as first mate."

The tricolour tom laughed, slapping Tumblebrutus on the shoulder and grinning. "Aye, sounds alright to me, lad."

"So I can count you in?" the brown and white cat asked, waving his paw at one of the queens behind the bar to get her attention. He smiled a little, watching the pale queen step easily through the rowdy mob to reach their table.

"I suppose..." George muttered, sounding somewhat uncertain.

"Same again, boys?" she purred.

"Aye, if ye don't mind, darlin'. We're celebrating tonight." Tumblebrutus replied sweetly.

"Coming up, love. You enjoy yourselves then," the queen said, smiling indulgently until she turned her back on them.

Tumblebrutus stared after her, watching her tail sway as she walked. She was a pretty one, he decided, he'd sure like to get to know her a little better. He had a thing for tabbies, and she was a gorgeous cream tabby with a nice, petite figure.

"So, when you planning on doing this, 'Brutus?" George prompted, interrupting the bosuns lewd thoughts.

"Tomorrow night."

"What? And your telling me now!" George cried, a little louder than he'd meant to as it resulted in a few stares. "I'm not sure about this, 'Brutus, have you thought this through?" he continued, lowering his voice again.

"Of course I have, George. I know what I'm doing."

"I don't think you do. And I still don't think mutiny is right. Whether you know what you're doing or not. I'm outta here." The tricolour tom snapped, getting to his feet and pushing his way to the door, ending the discussion quite suddenly.

"Damn it," Tumblebrutus muttered, attempting to follow. It wasn't easy, and the bosun lost sight of George until he left the pub and took off towards the docks, where their barge was waiting. Spotting the tom walking along the road ahead of him, he ran to catch up, grabbing the toms shoulder with a paw to stop him.

"Hold on a minute. You're not gonna say nothing, are you?" the patched tom asked, a hint of a growl the only warning he would give.

"I should. It's not right."

"Look, George. You were with me earlier, you can't back out now and you certainly ain't gonna get in the way."

"You gonna stop me?"

"Yeah. I might just have to, 'Brutus."

"You so much as think about talking to the Cap'n and you'll be floating down the Thames before you know it." Tumblebrutus warned, flexing his sharp claws for reinforcement.

"You're really serious about this. Fine. Alright, I'll keep me mouth shut. Just don't come crying to me when you fail and yer made to walk the plank, y'hear?"

"Yeah, yeah," Tumblebrutus dismissed, pushing his crewmate towards the barge and cutting off any further caution from his friend. "Shut the hell up and get in the boat!"


End file.
